


Secrets of Sleeping Bough

by Dentss



Series: Dungeons & Dragons Canon [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Backstory, Brainwashing, Cannibalism, Cults, Dark, Drow, Dungeons & Dragons Backstory, Dungeons & Dragons Campaign, Elves, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, Family Issues, Gay, M/M, Manipulation, Mental Health Issues, Murder, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Esteem Issues, Sleeping Bough, The Gay Campaign, Trust Issues, Violence, family murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 02:48:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19347970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dentss/pseuds/Dentss
Summary: Sleeping Bough is a cozy little village situated by the side of a cliff under a waterfall. Nobody's allowed in the cave systems behind the falls but what business do they have there anyway? Nothing the people of Sleeping Bough wouldn't tell you about, of course!





	1. The Sleeping Boar

     Darkness was settling over the humble Sleeping Bough, a gentle orange hue wandering across the buildings and the glimmering waterfall. Daylight's ruckus had concluded and soon made way for the hushed murmur of the night. Sunset had ushered most residents to bed; families were cozy in bed and the land was quiet. A few stray dogs were sitting around the fire, people of all species sharing stories in soft tones.

     Famous in the land for its kind people and rumours of its dark past, Sleeping Bough had become popular for travellers of all kinds. Adventurers, explorers and sometimes figures of power had visited, many asking about the tales of Drow and the Sleeping Brotherhood. Despite the peoples' efforts, word had gotten out of the cult. Even worse, the word of its final leader had spread far and wide, an elf known only by his family name 'Endove'. His name had travelled through the mouths of mothers and fathers, spoken in tales to children to make them go to bed, to stop them from wandering alone - anything to their advantage.

     Whilst the rumours lived on, the cult did not. It was long gone, its people long dead. All but two, that was.

     In power were two men. One an Endove, the other close to their family, a Lunelis, and both survivors of the events that took place in Sleeping Bough.

 

     Finally embracing the rumours, word had spread that Sir Lunelis was preparing to share the story only spoken of in speculation and legends.

     Said word was what brought travellers from far and wide to The Sleeping Boar on that calm night. The tavern was full of people of all kinds. A cloaked figure stood near the entrance - not the only cloaked one in the room, but the most downcast of those who were present by far. Brown hair fell over her shoulders and her arms were crossed. The only eyes that settled upon her were those of another hidden figure who entered the room, taking a place against a wooden pillar. They lingered for a while, then fell towards the two figures sitting at a table, surrounded - the main attractions.

     Together sat an Endove and a Lunelis. A Wood Elf and a Drow, two families who used to be so far apart now brought together by their shared experience. The Endove had sad hazel eyes and wore a headpiece that draped over the back of his head. Black locks of hair cascaded over his collarbones, long and wavy. His eyes held horrors long shrouded in darkness, secrets that would soon unravel for everyone there.

 

     Leaning back, the Lunelis turned and offered some money to a nearby Tiefling who hastily headed for the bar, being served immediately. The Drow seemed aloof but there was still tension in his muscles and a shadow in his icy blue eyes. Nobody said anything of it, but they were well aware. The Tiefling returned with a drink which he handed to his white-haired leader. The Lunelis took a drink, then banged a fist on the table, bringing the entire tavern to a stop. They were silent, all attention turning to the former cultists.

     "It would seem that most of you are here for the same reason, so you must have heard the rumours. Perhaps it would be best to prove these assumptions wrong before I begin." He cast his cold gaze over his company, then towards the Endove. "The cult is no more; this much should be obvious. The Sleeping Brotherhood is long dead. Understand that this wasn't a fairytale cult. This was the hard reality of manipulation and murder, to be an unwilling slave to the people who deem themselves superior. To some of you, this may be just a story. But to us, this was so very real."

     There was silence for a few more moments, then the Drow took a sip of his drink and frowned. "I suppose it is due time we introduce ourselves to those who do not know us. I am Elidyr Lunelis and I am the Lord of Sleeping Bough. I could have died on the day the Dove carried out the murders of every person, man, woman and child, who were a part of the Brotherhood. I was close to him. Close enough to know his darkness in detail. My accomplice here..." Elidyr hesitated, then reached to rest a hand upon the elf's shoulder, "was the Dove's brother. This is Rhys Endove. He should be dead, but dark magic has its benefits."

     Murmurs rippled through the tavern, and in a gentle tone Elidyr dipped his head and smiled a grim smile.

     "Let's begin."


	2. The Devil Had Hazel Eyes

     Rhys leaned forwards all of a sudden, folding his hands.

     "I-I should be the one to begin this story. I was where it began, I suppose. First of all I should start with the fact that only two people remain upon this land with the mark of the Dove. Our family is bound by magic to these markings of sorts - tattoos, perhaps - of wings that spread across our entire backs and down the backs of our arms. Those people are me and the Dove himself.

     My dear brother was brought into this world by a bitch. Our mother cared not for either of us. I would say she is part of the reason the Dove was so misguided. He needed a parental figure, really. I was nowhere near good enough to be that for him.

     We were two boys born into a god damn cult. Things were bound to go wrong at some point.

     I was fifty-six when I killed my mother. She tried to flee from the cult with my brother. Little Dove was horrified when he had to watch his brother slit her throat. She struggled, too, and I doubt the vision of it ever left him. The poor boy was raised with violence like this. Nobody else he knew died, partially because nobody wanted to be close to an Endove and partially because he didn't know how to socialise. I should have helped him - perhaps things would have gone differently if I did - but I stood by and watched him suffer.

     I didn't help when the overlords came to him, either. Nadrisyn was the first. He told my brother that nobody would love him. That the cult was the only way, and if he even dared to set foot outside he would be killed because there was no place in a world so cruel for him.  _We are keeping you safe; the world outside will only hurt you._ I was never of the same mind, but still I didn't even try.

     Next came Angaris. She taught my brother that his life was meaningless if he didn't follow her teachings. As a child who had never been loved, he was afraid of this. He wanted to be loved more than anything. He needed approval  _desperately._ She took on a motherly role to him, so naturally he believed everything she said. Still, I watched.

     Trelvan scared me. Whenever my brother was happy, whenever my brother did something he was proud of, Trelvan made it known that it was never enough.  _Nothing_ he did was enough to please Trelvan and there was no possible solution to this because happiness wasn't an option either. He was promised he'd understand when he was an adult. Trelvan was a god damn liar.

     Nathrae was an apologiser. Hurt him and then rope him back in with apologies and promises. She kept telling him that he would be alone without her. Once, the little Dove told her he felt sad inside. She told him that it was all his fault and told him he was worthless to the cult if he kept on like this. He didn't speak of his feelings any longer. Not to me nor to them.

 

     I was selfish, and I was sick of seeing my little brother suffer every day so I decided to escape. My logic was that if I got out alive I would infiltrate the place with a solid plan to save him. I'm glad I didn't take him because they found me camping outside with a broken wrist and dragged me back in by my hair. It was public, my humiliation. They cut me, asked me why I did it. It would have been easier to answer but I couldn't tell them; they'd hurt my brother. So I lied and let them do what they wished. That was when the Dove was summoned. He looked down at me with nothing in his eyes, picked me up. He opened his arms and I wrapped mine around him. In that moment, I knew the mistake I had made. I met the Devil in the form of an elf that day, and the Devil stabbed me in the back of the head and held me until the life faded from my eyes. Sometimes people speak of the blood on his hands, but his hands have been slick with mine."


	3. The Dove Sings

     No more did Rhys speak. Before he told the story he had been serene but now he was clearly reliving the darkest moment of his life. With a tale like that, one might wonder how he had returned to life. Perhaps Elidyr would take questions. For now, however, the story was not over.

     Elidyr spoke next, gently rubbing his companion's shoulder. "From that day onwards, the Dove was a changed man. He was traumatised and scared. He didn't come out and was alone. Truly alone; he didn't even make an effort to go to the Drow any longer. I can't say what he was going through but it was clear that it was not good. I learned that in this time he ended up hating himself. He hated everything about his being and saw no reason to continue but something was stopping him. Perhaps he didn't want to die at his own hand, or perhaps he didn't want to let his brother's death mean nothing. Perhaps he didn't want the Endove family line to end like that. I think he regretted what he did. His self-hatred festered, breeding like a swarm of gnats until finally it struck out to others. He came out rarely but when he did people would turn away from him and keep their distance. This made him feel worse, but what did he expect? Nobody trusted him and all hope was far gone.

     That was when I came along. He was alone in the tavern and I was cold and tired and thought it wouldn't hurt to give him a chance. It really did, and there was more pain to come. But that night he made a friend. I refused to give up no matter how many times he shunned me because I saw he was suffering and I couldn't let him do that alone. That was what he was, you know: alone and afraid. I looked after him, really. I let him cry on my shoulder, quite literally, and eventually we grew a bond, one I thought he would never break. I loved him. I truly loved him. He was so important to me and I would have died for him. Perhaps fate knew that, but it didn't try hard enough.

     I spent a lot of time with that boy. We were of the same age; young lovers and fucking dumb bastards.

     I woke up one morning to find he was not in my arms. The Dove was a late sleeper so I always woke up to him pressed close to me. He was gone and I was concerned. Horrified, really; it seemed an Endove thing to flee from the Brotherhood. Turns out that was exactly what he had done, because within the next few hours they dragged a certain wounded Wood Elf to the throne room to sit before the overlords. The four Drow that had raised him were disgusted and enraged but the Devil did not blink an eye. He stared, blank faced with that same lifeless look in his eyes. One might have thought he was already dead as he knelt there, bleeding from his nose and his mouth, eyes sunken and tired. I remember the way he turned to look at me, the way he smiled. There was no fight left in him. Part of me believes he wanted them to capture him.

     They figured out what happened between the Dove and I and forced me to watch as they hurt him. He bled, covered in bruises and wounds, sleep deprived and losing any semblance of hope he might have had left. I'd never seen a broken man like so, but here was the one I loved most becoming that man. No, the time of breaking was far behind them. The demonstrations horrified me but I could not let him see me hurt, so I kept strong, hoping that perhaps my bravery might bring something to him. Either that, or it appeared I cared not to see him suffer. I hope he didn't deem it the latter, but I suppose I can't change things from the past.

     He never screamed, you know. He never cried or begged for mercy or anything like that. Screaming and crying would have been better than what I saw, for watching the Dove's feathers darken further was a punishment I would take back my entire life to correct.

     I wasn't there when he escaped, but I was there when he called for an announcement. I was there when that crazed look spread across his face and his eyes widened, wild and merciless. He'd killed the four lesser overlords, but the Drow with the most power of them all was being held tight in his grasp. The Dove, more akin to the darkest of Swans now, grasped Sorn's face and then drove his fingers deep into his eyes."


	4. He Will Crawl Through and Cry Out

     "The Dove threatened us all. He told us that in order to survive we had to listen to him and follow his orders. I had a glimmer of hope for him until he told us that unless we went out and hunted for ourselves, we would have to eat each other. The Brotherhood took it too literally, and in an attempt to save themselves they started killing and eating people. I was off-limits - I learned that after almost being stabbed and watching my attacker crumble to the floor with the Dove's blade in his head - but the Brotherhood was in chaos. He cared not for the path he and everyone else was following. I don't think he cared about much of anything at that point.

     He started to pick people off. He started with everybody close to the former overlords. Drow numbers in the cult plummeted and he was the one to blame. He slit throats and stabbed hearts and strangled people and god damn he lost his fucking  _mind._ He would come to bed with me emotionless, hands shaking and his eyes blank. I would hold him until he cried, pleading for forgiveness for all the crimes he had committed. Despite these pleas, he never once stopped what he was doing. He got worse and worse.

     The Dove would sit on his throne with a crown of thorns and twisted wood, looking down upon us all cruelly. He was like a merciless god. He drowned people, watched the life drain from their eyes. He starved others, decapitated some and kept their heads as decoration.

     I recall that a man once looked him in the eyes before death and said 'you have become the very thing you feared.'

     He simply smiled and replied 'and you have become the very thing I used to be.'

     It was certain that he was delivering the emotions that he had been subjected to, and through that he became a terrible person. He was corrupt, full of hatred and sadness. I so badly want to forgive him for that, but nobody should ever walk the path he travelled. It is inexcusable and... all I can do is accept what happened, really.

     After a very long duration of this torture, he was done. The Dove set the entire system alight and it lit up the night sky, flames licking at the entrance to the tunnels as he left, blade in hand. I had escaped long before - he had told me of his plan, advised me to flee - and confronted him as he left. He was emotionless as he stepped forth. I remember the conversation clear as day.

     The Dove began, 'Dearest Elidyr, you have been just like them all this time. You wanted to dissuade me from doing any of this to save your own skin. You never loved me, none of them did. All you have been is a liar and a fraud. You are the same as Sorn and I can't live like that. Let me pass.'

     I stepped closer to him, reaching out my hands. 'My Dove, you have travelled a dark path. What they did to you was not the fault of our people, it was their own. The overlords were cruel but that doesn't mean I didn't love you. If I could have stopped them from doing what they did I would have. If I could, I would have saved your mother and brother. I would have stopped any of this from happening, but dear I am only a man. I have no control over this. Please, make the right choice. Turn this path around and wash that blood from your hands. We can start anew; nobody needs to know that any of this took place. We can leave Sleeping Bough far behind, surely.'

     The birds were singing songs of sorrow. I broke down crying. 'This is your fault, Dove! Who thought we would ever have to do this? What do you want from me? Haven't you taken enough? You made these people suffer and finally killed them but you were never this person before! What happened along the road? Did they break you when they caught you? Can't we go back to the man you used to be? Are you even still there? Am I talking to the man I love or just his husk? I look at your face and see nothing. Do you even feel anything? Do you regret any of this?'

     He was silent, but I was not finished. I was hurting horribly. 'Gods damn you, Dove! How could you have done this? Why did it go so fucking wrong? There's no hope here but I want to have hope! I want you to choose to change your path and make amends for the things you've done, I want you to be  _happy._ I can't see you do this any longer. I can't stand this, Dove. Please just let me be and never come back to this place.'

     He took my hands, squeezing them tight and pressing close to me. He looked up at me, tears in the corners of his eyes, and kissed me before wrapping his hands around my throat and pressing as tight as he could. I spluttered, choking and gasping for air until I blacked out. He must have been satisfied because he left early, not hurting me any further. He watched me struggle beneath him and he knew what he was doing but I can't find it in me to hate him. I can't find it in my heart to hate any part of him other than the demon living within him. There is a great evil within that boy that must never be released and I hope that it never is. He is such a frail thing, but even the most fragile can commit terrible crimes.

     He left me there on the ground and when I woke the only thing left of him were two daggers sunk deep into the ground behind me.

 

     I passed out again, and awoke kneeling beside Rhys' grave, holding his breathing body in my arms.

 

     I have never seen the Dove after that. I wonder if he did listen, if he ever did return. I would have noticed him had he shown his face around here. He likely knows better, and I can only imagine how much it would hurt him to see his ex lover and brother returned after he thought they were dead. He would sink into paranoia, wondering if the entire cult was still alive. I wonder what he would say if I saw him again.

     I think that something we should all learn from him is that there is danger in every man. I learned one lesson in particular:

     The Devil lurks in the depths of the Dove's hazel eyes, and one day he shall crawl through and cry out for the things he's seen."


	5. Devil's Shadow

     As life returned once again to the tavern, the cloaked figure near the door turned to leave. As her back turned to the crowd, she took down her hood, her wavy brown hair swaying softly as she walked. Through the streets she moved, eyes focused on the floor beneath her. Like a ghost she slipped away from the streets of cozy little Sleeping Bough. That night, rumours spread of the shadow who paid a visit to the village, and a man standing outside the tavern as the stranger left swears that he saw the mother of the Devil's - the Dove's - hazel eyes.


End file.
